


Little Earthquakes

by LibertinePast



Category: Cobra Kai (Web Series), Karate Kid (Movies)
Genre: Emotional Infidelity, F/M, Hurt/Comfort, Longing, Rare Pairings, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-30
Updated: 2019-10-18
Packaged: 2020-05-14 22:58:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 8,040
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19282942
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LibertinePast/pseuds/LibertinePast
Summary: An Amoush story born from a tumblr drabble challenge.  The summer is cruel and kind for Amanda and Anoush. Roles change, life is rearranged...and the ground beneath them trembles.Thank you to the Quiver for sending the prompts!





	1. Banzai

**Author's Note:**

  * For [TheEmpressAR](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheEmpressAR/gifts), [Rynnsama](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rynnsama/gifts), [InvisibleObserver13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/InvisibleObserver13/gifts), [Gia467](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gia467/gifts), [TheLadyDisdain](https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheLadyDisdain/gifts).



> Title is from Tori with an "i" Amos. ❤️

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> To Baba.

Amanda LaRusso loved take-out—guilty as charged by Lucille—but lately it seemed like every meal came out of a plastic tub. She and Anoush had pulled another late-nighter to get caught up, and things were starting to look up.  Amanda’s desk was littered with containers, and they’d both eaten too much in the giddy atmosphere of their victory.

“Man,” she groaned. “How many pounds do you think we’ve put on the last few weeks?”

“Doesn’t matter. We wear our stress-eating well.  So confident in that, I’ll update my dating app photo to an undershot of my face.”

“ _Very_ flattering,” she snickered. “Ooh, I almost forgot the most important part of the celebration.”  She took out a bottle of champagne and did a little Price is Right model wave over it. 

“Waaait a sec, _Cristal_ for finishing up the metrics reports? That can’t be the only thing we’re celebrating.”

“No spoilers, but I should probably wait until you say yes.”  She handed him a crisp sheet of paper, grinning from ear to ear.  “Take your time.” 

His mouth slowly fell open, his eyes soft and wide.  “A…a proposal to make me General Manager?” The pay raise began to compute in his spinning head and he couldn’t help but gasp a little.  

“This will make all our lives a little easier.  Hell, I thought you deserved it after the year you put in with Louie—never mind now.  It’s yours.” 

He looked up at her with his eyelashes glistening. “God, I’m sorry,” he snickered at himself, rubbing his eye. “I’m just…a little emotional, I um,” he swallowed, clearing his damp throat. “I was the first in my family to go to college and my dad…he worked really hard for us, and never saw anything close to numbers like this. He’d be so proud. I really wish he was here.”

Amanda held up the champagne bottle with a wistful curl of her lips. “To Baba, then.” 

Anoush nodded. “To Baba. And…yes. Hell yes. I’m in.” He sniffed and dragged a thumb under his eye.

Amanda hated to see him hurting, as much as it was laced with joy. It suddenly possessed her to pick up a chunk of chopped Cesear salad and hum it at his chest.

He looked down at the glob on his tie and wheezed out a laugh. “That was unexpected.”

“I’m sorry,” she giggled behind her hand. “You were crying and I was gonna start crying, and now we’re not. Levity achieved.” She blinked as he tossed a mayo-dripping sandwich in her lap. “Ohh, no. Now you’ve done it. You’re in dangerous territory now.” 

“Let me guess. You were some sort of food fight champion of UCLA.” A smooshed deviled egg glopped against his cheek from across the desk. “Go Bruins,” he tried to say with a completely straight game face, and failed, snorting.

“Nope. I just like to win.at.everything.”  They armed themselves again and the stare-down began. “Banzai!” Amanda cried.

It didn’t take long for their shots to get in such close range, they were smashing food in each other’s faces, in each other’s hair, howling with laughter...until Amanda slipped in the mess and Anoush caught her around the waist. “Whoa,” he swallowed, wondering how they’d gone from boss and employee to Baby and Johnny Castle in a whirl of carbs.

They looked at each other, chests rising and falling quickly.  Wildfire green eyes on baby brown…a heavy blink. Cleared throats.

“I’m sorry. I’ll clean this up,” Anoush said quietly, drawing back as she found her footing again.

“No, please. Don’t apologize. We needed to let off some steam. This week was brutal.” 

He shook his head. “No, it wasn’t.”

She took a napkin and wiped the egg off his face, but only the literal kind. “I know.” 

 

* * *

 


	2. Undetectable Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A mad dash for the ladies room.

“So, why do you want to be a part of the LaRusso family?” Anoush asked the applicant, kicking off his first interview as GM.  As the guy started to drone on, he saw a blur of long hair in the hallway, flying past the windows of his office.  It was Amanda making a mad dash for the ladies room, high heels in hand.

Anoush tapped his clipboard, staring at the bathroom door in concern. Emitting the occasional “Uh huh” or “I see,” but not listening to the guy at all.

When the applicant had left, the door Amanda had blasted through finally opened again. She held the door frame, unsteady. Anoush bit his lip. To hell with it. He _had_ to ask.

“Hey,” he offered from his office doorway. “You OK? I saw you gunning for it. I hope it wasn’t those muffins Karen brought in. They looked a little off.”

She looked down, shaking her head in despair. “It’s not food poisoning. Or contagious. Unless there’s something in the water…” She ushered him into his office and closed the door behind them. “I can’t even believe I’m saying this, but…I think it’s morning sickness,” she whispered.

Anoush couldn’t define the feeling in his own stomach at that moment—happy, bewildered and jealous all at once.  “Oh…my God? Aman _da_? That’s good, right?”

 Her dull expression seemed to say otherwise.  “Yeess?” she shrugged, her teeth gritting tightly as the smile dissolved into her sobbing in her hands.

“Hey, hey,” His hand hovered near her back but never made contact. “C’mon. You’ve got this. And Daniel will be ecstatic, are you kidding?”

“ _Really_.” She folded her arms, sad to pissy in a hormonal snap. “Ecstatic to be starting _all over again_ with diapers, at 50? Ecstatic that it totally looks like I planned the ultimate sabotage of his dojo? Because _that’s_ what it looks like, even though it’s a complete freak accident. I don’t even know how two ships passing in the night managed to pull this off.”

Anoush wasn’t sure either, but he shook away the thought. “He won’t think it was some master plan.”

“He doesn’t trust _anyone_ right now. He assumes the worst of a 75-year old veteran in a jean jacket doing drunk karate.”

“Everything will be fine. Not even Anthony could ignore an adorable tiny human, and Sam can put her daily drama on hold to babysit.” 

“Ooh, I hadn’t thought of that perk.” 

“It’s gonna be okay.” 

“Of course it is. I made Daniel clean out all the baby stuff in the pool house and get rid of it,” she groaned into her steepled hands. “Listen, do not tell _a soul_ about this. As of right now, you’re the only one who knows.”

Anoush hated the fact that this made his heart flutter. _Stupid, stupid, stupid,_ he narrated the jump of beats to himself. “Of course. Won’t even tell the cat. Shirazi had about five litters before getting spayed, so it would turn into a big one-upmanship thing.”

She rolled her eyes and hugged him, breathing in his scent of bergamot. He felt a strange energy coming from her, the undetectable third heart in the embrace. “Thanks for looking out for me. You make me feel safe,” Amanda said, although it wasn’t entirely true. She knew that babies weren’t conceived from emotional affairs, but it didn’t ease her guilt.

* * *

 


	3. Fantastic Beasts

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The gala.

The days wore on, and Amanda’s body grew with the long shadows of summer.  The pregnancy brought about a complete 180 in Daniel: doting, worrying, shorter days at Miyagi-Do. Less talk of the threat of old John Kreese, and more talk of the threat of caffeine and not elevating her feet enough.

Anoush was killing it as GM. Poached positions were filled, numbers were going back up.  He didn’t see Amanda as much now, but when he did, she was curvier and more radiant than ever. He’d end up with his forehead on his desk after she left, banging it softly, willing the images to stop. 

He knew he needed to snap out of this, but was haunted by memories of their days in the trenches together. The food fight was burned on the inside of his eyelids. He couldn’t forget. He imagined what his mother would think of him hungering for his married, pregnant boss, and it was nothing short of disownment.  He picked up the dating app and swiped left until he felt carpal tunnel coming on.

Anoush buried himself in work, and LaRusso Auto won a JD Power Award for Dealership excellence that July.

Daniel threw a big gala under the tents at Encino Oaks. The DJ had picked up on the 80’s vibe of the crowd and Daniel couldn’t stand still.  A roundhouse kick to the jaw couldn’t wipe the smile off his face.  Annihilating Tom Cole, having a new baby--a fresh start. It seemed too good to be true.  He wrapped his arms around Amanda’s cute little bump.

“You wanna go grab a drink? How about an extra virgin martini with extra olives?”

“Black _and_ green, with a strawberry."

“…Wait, wait. I.do not. believe it,” Daniel said, leaning in. “Anoush actually brought a date.  He must’ve taken my advice to ditch that profile pic of him wearin’ an ascot! She’s a stunner-an’-a-half, too.” 

Amanda’s molars met in a harsh dance, and she turned around and saw them from afar. A petite Indian woman with flowing raven hair was holding the crook of his arm. She whispered something in his ear, which Anoush met with raised eyebrows and a sly grin. 

Amanda looked away and stuffed her face with chips, chewing with her mouth open. She resembled an opossum chomping on trash.

“Whoa, babe. I know those cravings are killer, but take it easy,” Daniel chuckled, leading her onto the dance floor.

Sam watched her parents from the sidelines. “Uggh. I still can’t believe my _mom_ is pregnant.”

The Miyagi-Do crew, in their Sunday best, nodded in agreement. Chris offered, “That’s some burrrth control right there.”

“Indeed,” said Demetri. “The prospect of having to fill in as a wet-nurse for one’s sibling is quite the deterrent for teen motherhood.”

“Demeeetri!” Sam cringed.

Amanda scanned the crowd for Anoush and saw him standing alone at the appetizer table. Whatever was spread on his cracker plopped onto his tie.  He looked down at it sadly for a while, before wiping it away.

Amanda bit the inside of her mouth and drew back from Daniel. “I-I have to pee again,” she mumbled quickly. “Be right back, babe.”

Inside the bathroom stall, she sighed into her hands. _Stop it. Stop. Be happy. Everything is great._ She happened to tune in to some women cackling at the sinks.

“…Oh, Anoush, a.k.a. HotKashmiri78?” one of them said, her words dripping with derision. “I met him a few months ago on that app. I rawed him on the first date, and he thought it was gonna end like a romantic comedy or something. Poor sap. I’m surprised he didn’t propose.”

Amanda’s eyes narrowed in the stall. Her hands clenched into fists on her knees.

“So, why are you getting back up on a lame horse?” the other woman asked.

“He’s making waaay more money now. I think it’ll make everything else a little more… _tolerable_ —the constant jokes, how he moans like he’s dying, the professional photo shoots of his cat?” 

They laughed and laughed as Amanda’s stewing breath intensified, hissing from her nose.

“I’ll see you at the bar, Priya,” the other woman said. “Have fun with your noisy little pepper.”  

Amanda heard the water running and saw Priya’s ugly shoes still in the room. She gave the stall door her best push-kick, and Priya jumped and screamed. “Coming for you, bitch,” Amanda snarled, grabbed her by the elbow and dragged her out of the ladies’ room.

Amanda pushed her against the empty hallway wall, and Priya’s eyes were wide with terror. “The fuck?? What the hell do you want?” 

“I heard what you said about Anoush, so here’s what you’re gonna do. _Leave._ If you stand him up now, you’ll hurt him a lot less than you were going to. Do it or I’ll kick your ass, swollen ankles and all. Who will everybody believe started it—you, or their boss in a delicate condition?” 

Priya winced. “Okay, okay. Fine.”

“And one more thing? Consider yourself lucky that man ev-er graced you with his presence. He would lay down his _life_ to make someone happy. You lost a fucking unicorn,” Amanda hissed, releasing her.

Priya nodded vehemently and staggered for the exit down the hall.

Amanda watched the heavy door shut and a wicked smile cut across her face, until she turned around and Anoush was frozen in the doorway of the men’s room.

Her mouth dropped open and they had matching gapes for a moment. His eyes were mythically awestruck, and for once, words completely failed Anoush Norouzi.

Amanda closed her eyes. “I’m…not gonna bother asking how long you were standing there.”  Mortified, she took off.

“Amanda, wait….!” he sighed, taking off after her.


	4. Songbird

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Slowing it down.

Away from the stark white tents, Anoush followed Amanda to the moonlit beach.  She stopped when she ran out of sand, and he stayed a few steps behind.  “I’m not sorry I threatened your date,” she said, her hair flowing in the wind. “Just that I got caught.”

“No, it’s okay, it’s…probably the most badass thing I’ve ever seen,” he said nervously, getting light-headed just thinking about it. “Look, I know how Priya is. I shouldn’t have gotten back with her, but....she’s exactly what I deserve for doing this to Daniel. I can’t even look him in the eye anymore.”

“You didn’t mean for any of this to happen, okay? Blame me. I leaned on you way too hard,” she sniffed. “But you stepped up and stopped everything from falling apart. I hate how you can’t even see your own worth.”

The pause was filled with the sound of the tide and the distant bass from the tents.  Somewhere under that was Anoush losing his breath without moving at all.  “Amanda, everything you said about me back there….”

“Believe it.”  She couldn’t turn around, couldn’t bear to see the expression attached to the ache in his voice.

“I won’t forget it.” He was still talking to her back. Maybe he liked it better from this vantage point—you couldn’t tell she was pregnant from here. “A-anyway, feel free to put a business-friendly variation in a recommendation letter because I’m putting in my two weeks notice right now and I’m gonna go get a very very strong drink,” he said at hyper-speed. 

“Anoush, don’t you dare!” Amanda called out.  She whipped around and he turned back with his head down, wanting to bury it in the sand.. “ _No._ Absolutely not. I won’t let you defect to Cole’s because of _me._ ”

“Why do you automatically assume I’d go to Cole’s? You know I can’t digest tapioca pearls, and he _makes_ them drink all that sugar so they’re more aggressive on the lot—”

“Don’t change the subject! Do you think I’ll just forget about you? Stop thinking about you….” She considered her next words, but stood tall, right at home in her audacity. “…dreaming about if we’d just cleared everything off my desk one of those nights?” 

His throat worked visibly hard to swallow. “Please don’t put Melrose Place images in my head. Please stop. You’re obviously very hormonal right now, a-and—” 

“You’re going there, really?? Look at me, dead in the eye, and tell me you’ll feel any differently if you leave.”

He took the challenge, and they both tried to look cocky instead of tortured, but it didn’t work. There was only a narrowing space between them, hearts in throats, heads tilting from something much stronger than pride. “I have to. I’m so sorry.”

He was the one who walked away then, back towards the bustle of the tents.  She followed, angry tears welling up. “Fuck you, Anoush!”

“Oh, yeah, you’re _real_ balanced, Amanda!”

“I hope Cole makes you dress up like Betsy Ross.  I hope he makes you prune the cactuses!” 

“I didn’t say _anything_ about Cole! Will you just drop it?!” 

They walked into the tent and started to go in opposite directions, but were dragged back to center by a lanky-armed brunette with a mega-watt smile. “Ey, just the people I’ve been lookin’ for! Come and schmooze with the guys from J.D. Power.”

In the whirlwind that followed, there were tentative handshakes and smiles, and Daniel making the first cut in a cake with a gold emblem on it. “This wouldn’t have been possible without our CEO—my partner in life _and_ in crime,” he said into the microphone. Chi-chi business laughter echoed around Daniel’s favorite joke. “But most of all, our new GM Anoush ‘The Uzi’ Norouzi—yeah, I just made that up on the fly—who’s right where he belongs, and I couldn’t be happier.”

Under the veil of applause, Amanda leaned over with a devilish smile. “Go ahead, Uzi. Tell him you’re going to Cole’s. I dare you.”

“For the last time,” he growled, “I’m not going to Cole’s.”

“How about McVicker’s Auto Barn? They’ll laugh if you wear an ascot, though.”

“That was two years ago, and I’m never gonna live it down, am I?”

The piano opening of “Songbird” filled the tents. “Time to slooow it down,” the cheesy DJ crooned. All they wanted to do was stuff their faces with cake to numb the pretty pain that was building by the second.

Daniel grinned, “Fleetwood Mac to the rescue. I gotta go do a photo op, so how ‘bout my dream team has a dance?”  He heard a few “uh’s” and dragged them out there anyway. “C’maan, Anoush, your date won’t mind.”

That was an understatement. Anoush and Amanda put their hands on each other’s shoulders at nearly arm’s length, with their lips in thin lines.  She was noticeably taller than him in front of everyone, but that was the least of his worries. They looked to opposite tent walls.

“What’s this? Catholic school?” Daniel laughed, waving over the space between them. “You makin’ room for the Holy Ghost here, or what?” He clacked them together like two dolls, Amanda’s baby in Anoush’s ribs. “Theerrre we go. If you haven’t killed each other yet, you never will. Be back in a flash.”

Amanda’s heart was always working harder for two, but she knew why it was pounding in her ears now. The spinning lights encircled them. Anoush finally caught her eyes, and the brave green he saw made him move his hand to the small of her back, not caring how possessive it felt. 

Growing up, all of Amanda’s favorite Fleetwood songs were the ones sung by Christine McVie.  She basked in the safety she felt in that silvery voice, and held onto Anoush without reservation. 

_And I wish you all the love in the world_

_But most of all, I wish it from myself._

He closed his eyes and tried to transmit those very words to her, to remember every detail of the weight of her in his arms, and the baby gave a solid kick as if to protest. Daniel’s kick.

Amanda felt Anoush trembling and pulling back, and she held on. “It’s okay. She’s just saying ‘don’t leave.’”

Anoush felt the liquid movement against him, in complete anguish, but with a half-smile he couldn’t control. “Amanda….” 

“Please stay.”

The kicking went on, and the mother of the tiny crane didn’t bat an eyelash. Somehow, being an alien host made her even more beautiful. He felt blanketed by that protectiveness, the same kind that had thrown Priya against the wall, that was conforming him to her body right now. “Alright,” he said.

* * *

 


	5. Doret Begardam

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Everyday fragments of a man's life.

**_Doret Begardam_ **

(Farsi for:  "I circle around you.")

 

**CW: in-character racism/sexism**

 

After the gala, the days and weeks flew off the calendar in old movie fashion. Anoush stayed, Amanda incubated, salt air reminded them of Fleetwood Mac. Daniel’s honeymoon phase of stepping back from karate was slowly creeping back to abnormal...but at least with frequent phone calls.

 Amanda found reasons to go to NoHo. That August, her dresses were a spectrum of warm colors. Today, she wore cayenne red.

 She was struggling with takeout bags as she walked into Anoush’s office. “I brought you Joan’s on…Third,” she trailed off when she finally looked up and saw Sheila standing at the desk.

 “He’s out on a test drive, I was just leaving the copy of the license.”

 “Why couldn’t Jason or Kenji take the customer out?” 

 “The guy requested Anoush specifically for whatever reason. He should be back pretty soon. How are you feeling, Mama?”

 Amanda looked down. There was a Post-it note on the desk with  " _Too many passwords???_ ” scrawled on it.  “...like I should know what I’m doing by now, but I’m more clueless than I was with the last two kids?” 

 “Oh, that's just from the crazy times we’re living in--we’re all unsure about everything.”

 When Sheila left, Amanda took in the silence, and all the little everyday fragments of a man’s life surrounding her.  Her sigh was hard when she noted the lingering scent of him. She sat in his rolling chair and took a clementine out of a bowl, then put it back.  Her wrist bumped the mouse. When the screen saver disappeared, there was a window open about the fifth month of pregnancy. _“Your baby is about the size of a bell pepper.”_

 Amanda blinked with agonizing wonder, and tried to stop her lower lip from swallowing her face. Sometimes it wasn’t a name, but a pure exhalation. “...anoush…”  

 Daniel wanted to know everything, too. He’d been re-reading all the pregnancy books from cover to cover, as if he was trying to find Tomi Village within the pages.

 Different but same, Anoush felt connected to this baby. It didn’t matter if he and Amanda had never touched beyond falls, hugs, and one very painful slow dance.

 _If you stop being so invested, he’ll stop being so invested,_ she thought.  The first thing she had to do was stop moping around his office, to stop thinking about all the dangerous words the night of the JD Power party. _“…dreaming about if we’d just cleared everything off my desk one of those nights?”_

 It didn’t help to be sitting at a desk right now, with strange hormones in her veins and elevated blood pressure thrumming in her ear.   She thought of all these mugs, clementines and staplers crashing to the floor.

 Her purse lit up and vibrated and she almost fell out of the chair. She pulled out her phone, greeted by her contact photo of Daniel with a huge martini in front of him.  “Hey?” the greeting escaping her as a strange question.

 “H-hey, babe, I...look, I wasn’t gonna unload this on ya’, I don’t...I-I just haven’t been able to get it out of my head since it happened.” 

 Amanda’s throat tightened. “What…?”

 “John Kreese, he friggin’...popped up at the dojo.  Didn’t howl like a banshee this time, thank god--I probably woulda had a heart attack...but he said some real creepy things.”

 Amanda frowned at the genuine fear in his voice. “Babe, listen. I never meant to...discount everything you went through with that guy, I…”

 “I know, I know, he seems all washed up and harmless, but he was saying stuff like...I couldn’t attack Cobra Kai without ‘consequences’...that I better ‘hope that my soldiers are ready’. ‘Watch out for the cogs in my machine?’.....what the hell. But you know what the worst part is? I feel like, at least if he’s got his crosshairs on me, it’ll spare Johnny of God-knows-what. I’m actually...worried about him.” 

 “I'm sure he's okay. Why don’t you head home? I’ll take the rest of the day off, too. Things have been so good lately--let’s not let Cobra Kai chip away at us again. We don’t want everyone calling this a band-aid baby.”

 “You don’t think that, do you Mands?” 

 She looked at Anoush’s computer screen. _“Your baby can now stretch, yawn and make facial expressions_.”  “Of course not….do you?”

 “Nah, nah. Not a chance. Love you, see you at the homestead.”

 “Love you.”

 

Anoush’s computer had gone back to the screen saver of the bouncing LaRusso logo. She happened to glance over at the license copy of the test driver he was out with, and two hooded eyes bore into her. 

 

DL. I6730294

VETERAN

John H Kreese 

 

Her ribs took a hit from the inside and she shot up from the desk.  “Shiiit,” hissed out, stripped of air from the baby’s jabs and the sheer panic that consumed her.  A cog in the machine. Anoush was alone with Kreese, and Kreese was driving. She clawed around for her phone and stumbled for the office door. “Sheila?!”

 But when she got halfway through the showroom, Anoush was waltzing through the door in a tweed vest--his version of Casual Friday.  He misread her crazed countenance. “Hey, I know what you’re gonna say, I know I should’ve delegated this bu--”

 She threw her arms around him and squeezed, catching her breath against the embrace as his sentence was cut off by a stifled “hggrkk!”

 His eyes were saucers but he wasn’t exactly complaining. “You okay? Is this...part of a new workplace culture initiative or something?” 

 The glass front door opened and Kreese slithered in. He looked at Amanda over Anoush’s shoulder, grinning, as she released his new friend. Amanda was suddenly regretting Rule #1 of car sales--to never judge the size of a customer’s bank account by their shabby clothing. Kreese looked nothing short of broke.

 “Well, if it isn’t the little lady who makes the coffee around here, but with all the _perks._ Get it? Aw, I’m just kidding.” 

 “Mr. Kreese is verrry interested in the E-class,” Anoush crooned in his velvety sales voice, oblivious. “He says the ride was smoother than Sanka.” 

 Clearly, Anoush had never tried instant coffee. Amanda glared at the old man.

 “Very smooth,” Kreese nodded. “I carry the packets with me if you’d like some. It’s like a drug, man. So easy to just spike it into some hot water.” 

 “Thank you, we’re good,” Amanda said softly. “Anoush, could you excuse us? I’ll handle the final arrangements with Mr. Kreese.”

 “Oh...okay.  Yeah, absolutely. Great meeting you, sir, call me if you need anything.” 

 Amanda cringed as the bones jutted out of Kreese’s hand, shaking Anoush’s with a telltale firmness.  The old man returned his oily gaze to Amanda.  

 Anoush tried to decode the bizarre tension in the room, and he stepped back hesitantly before doing exactly as she wished.

 

Kreese opened the glass door and gestured outside. “I’m getting my fix from the smoke coming out of your ears, but I’d like a cigarillo if you don’t mind.” 

 She walked past him stiffly. “I heard what you did at a certain little turquoise house in Canoga Park,” she glowered as he lit his Swisher. “Was this test drive stunt part of your thinly veiled threats? Showing off how vulnerable my employees are?”

 “I’m surprised I didn’t get beheaded by Agoob for wearing this pin,” he puffed, popping his denim collar.  “Those people hate our flag.”

 “Fuck.Off.” 

 “Ooh. Fightin’ words for someone in your position. That was an awful friendly greeting you gave him back there. In fact, your name was practically the only word in the Sheik of Araby’s mouth the whole drive. I’m wondering if LaRusso has some competition. I think you just earned a special assignment to talk him into closing that dojo. He’d listen to you--worships the ground you walk on, even though the feeling isn’t mutual.” 

 Amanda tried to hide the nauseous unease that must’ve been written all over her face. Her nails dug into her palm, which was slick with sweat. “Like hell it isn’t. Is this the hill you want to die on, Kreese? I doubt you have much time left, and you’re still trying to get back at a 16-year old. Tragic, really.”

 “I’ve been watching you, Mrs. LaRusso. You spend a lot of time with someone who isn’t your husband. If there’s one thing I know about Daniel, he’s very explosive.  Just the seed in his mind would make that little brat you’re carrying come out looking a little….tawny.” 

 “You...had better get off my property right now. You’re wrong, and you’re insane. Stay away from all of us.”

 The devilish smile he gave her had deeper lines than the San Andreas. “Long as you do your homework, Doll Face. Daniel dismisses all his little vermin. Miyagi-Do is over.” 

 “...I---”

 “And give your salesman my regards. He reminds me of a fellow I met in Desert Storm, an Iraqi. Needless to say, he’s...no longer with us. I’ll be seeing you, Mrs. LaRusso. Take it easy now.” 

 Amanda watched him leave, numb and cold in the hot sun. A blinding headache slipped over her like a long shadow.  Kreese was toying, he was tormenting.

 But she’d find out if it was idle...because Daniel wasn’t going to close Miyagi-Do. Not for her, not for anyone. 

 She knew this feeling--of being scared, ashamed, lowly and wanting to medicate it in a very wrong, very stupid way.

 She trudged back into the dealership and stood in the doorway of Anoush’s office, unable to stop the silent tears from running down her face.

 He shot up from his desk. “Oh my God? Amanda? I knew something was up--what the hell is going on?” 

 She didn’t answer, making a hard swipe against her cheek. She touched his face with a tear-stained hand, and he leaned into it reflexively. “Anoush, if anything ever happened to you…”

 “Please tell me where this is coming from. What’s happening?” 

 The sharp emerald answer in her eyes was: _this._

 She dragged him into his private bathroom and closed the door behind them. Anoush found himself pinned against the door, Amanda pausing to look at him, gripping his tie...before finally sealing that electric space once and for all. Her lips ravished his with teary desperation and his eyes were wide open. Her hands cupped his face, and those baby browns fluttered weakly shut. His thumbs were on her cheeks, too, and there was no sound but quick breathing. “Make me forget,” she whispered, unbuttoning his vest.

 “I--” The only thing holding him back was a very vague awareness of who they were, where they were. 

 But when her lips claimed his neck, he only knew _what_ they were at the basest level, and the sigh he let out was one of complete relief.  A dream fulfilled. She remembered Priya’s flippant ladies room talk-- _”he moans like he’s dying,”_ but all Amanda heard was life.

 

 

 


	6. Dreams of Dying in Cars

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Norouzi-Do method.

 

 

The vest fell to the floor, then the tattersall tie. Amanda fumbled with his shirt buttons, never breaking from his lips, tasting him deeper.  She grasped the thick curls on the back of his head. Anoush’s hands were slowly tracing over her, finding everything hyper-sensitive in her state. He was floating on her sighs, his back to the stone tiles.

Maybe in another universe, there would’ve been no physical spark. 

In this one, they could’ve shorted out the lights in the whole dealership. 

His name was on her lips, but so soft it was a sensation more than a sound. He felt her struggle with his belt buckle. “Wait,” he said, which she cut off quickly with more kisses. “--mmph...please, I-I can’t be like that with you. I want to... cater to you.” 

“Noush, this isn’t a deli,” she panted, parting his shirt.  “Let’s just bang this out before it kills us.” She finally popped his belt prong.

 “Amanda...I am _nev-er_ gonna bang anything out with you…” he whispered, and gently grasped her wrists. He moved her hands from his groin and draped her arms around his shoulders. He kissed down her throat, her décolletté, all while peeling the cap sleeves of her dress off her shoulders.  

 She always did have a weakness for catering.

 Her dreams always bleached out around this point.  Anoush would say he was afraid of hurting the baby.  That or her teeth would start falling out, or she’d see herself in a mirror, adorned with lotuses.

 Nothing about her delicacy made him hesitate. He felt the little _ping_ of a foot and against his body and was unafraid, unashamed.  The cayenne red dress had a built-in bra and he pulled it to one side, cradling her, circling his thumb. Looking up at her expression before closing his eyes and drawing her nipple into his mouth.

 Her lips parted and nothing came out. She heard him instead—his little worshipping sounds she’d tried not to imagine. She gripped his hair and finally managed a squeak that took half her strength. Her pregnant body was at the mercy of his tongue, and the minutes were as long as summer.  She couldn’t go on like this--she’d be begging loudly enough for the whole showroom to hear. She pulled him back to her mouth, tasting her own almond lotion on him. 

 All at once, she was dizzy from more than just desire.  Her head was splitting and the lights were too bright. She was leaning on him harder and harder. Anoush felt drunk, too, and nuclear red in the face at the thought of asking her to ride him, which was probably what pregnant women had to do, but he wasn't sure. He wanted to just lie on the floor and submit to whatever she needed.

 Until a weak cry that was nothing like pleasure.

 “Amanda?” 

 “I’m…..” she murmured, laying her head against his shoulder. She grasped her belly. “Hohh god...that was too much like labor.” 

 Anoush was well beyond horrified then, straight to feeling cursed. “No no no, it’s way too soon, way way way—“ He scrambled to get them both decent again, pawing at his buttons, pulling her sleeves back up. His brain buffering. “For?—Toni Braxton contractions—”

 “Braxton-Hicks...”  She winced as another one swelled through her. “And this….isn’t those...!”

 “I’m taking you to the hospital right now. You just breathe and swear and hold on as tight as you need to. Circulation is overrated.  Anything you need.”

 He gathered her in his arms. “Anoush—”

 “Anything.”

There was one worker in the Enterprise kiosk who happened to look up and see Anoush carrying Amanda out in a whirl of red, her short-strapped purse around his neck.

 

* * *

 

 

Naturally, Anoush dreamed about cars. Since work dreams were usually nightmares, he was usually trapped in cars-- luxury air pockets, sinking in the Los Angeles River. 

The ride in his Audi to the hospital felt similar, but at least he wasn't alone.

 He wanted to tell her it would be okay, to let his thoughts bleed into Persian endearments and call her Mandy-joon. 

 He flipped to wondering if the sudden crisis was nature’s way of telling them this was all wrong, but he knew deep down that wasn’t how any of this worked.

 He didn’t even know why she’d slumped into his office, crying and mauling him. Was that old test driver...what that her father who’d walked out on her, who’d left her family in the desert dust? The time to ask was gone. Nothing mattered now except the baby.

 He tried to keep his eyes on the road. She happened to look to the center console. The way her head was spinning, she wouldn’t have noticed the pamphlet there if not for Cole’s fat head in a tricorn hat. 

  _So, You’re Ready to Join My Militia!_

 “...I _knew_ he’d get his hooks in you.”

 His jaw was almost touching the brake when she picked up the pamphlet. “Whoa, whoa, please, I can explain!”

 “So, everything that just happened between us--what was that, exactly? Your goodbye?”

 “No! He cornered me at Starbucks, what was I supposed to do, throw a hot Americano in his face? You don’t want anymore shit with him, right? Like those feuding _dojos_ you’re always complaining about?” he hinted hard. “I was civil!” 

 “Civil, huh?,” she grinned, noticing the writing on the back of the pamphlet. _“Dear Hanoush,_ _see you at the Boba Fête?”_

 He hit the curb on the way into the ER parking lot. “I did _not_ RSVP to that!”

“But you kept this.”

“I want to stay, you don’t know how much. And you were right-- leaving wouldn’t make me feel any differently about you, but— at least I could function without feeling like I…like I’m underwater, breathing through a cocktail straw.”

 They sat in silence, staring at the bright red awning over the doors. She tried to mask the pain of a growing contraction but Anoush knew, grasping her hand, squeezing it. 

 

* * *

 

“Bed rest??” Amanda scoffed at the doctor, the flimsy partition curtain around them not affording much privacy. They’d given her medication to stop the contractions, and since her mouth hadn’t even stopped _during_ the pain, it was really motoring now. “You don’t understand, I am a cyclone, I don’t _do_ bed rest.” 

 “Well, I’ll consult with your OB, but I’m sure she’s going to say the same thing,” he said.  “Your blood pressure is through the roof, and there was fibronectin in the test we ran. Your glue, so to speak, is dissolving way ahead of schedule. This is a high risk situation, as most geriatric pregnancies tend to be.” 

Anoush hadn’t asked to come in here, but when the nurse called her name, Amanda had simply hooked his arm and yanked him to his feet. So, here he was. He’d looked away during a few choice moments of the exam, and after that last comment, he was anxiously doing so again.

 “You know what, I do _not_ appreciate that the minute we’re over thirty-five and pregnant, you act like we’re reckless blobs burdening society!”  

 The doctor sighed. “You think you can talk some sense into her, Mr. LaRusso?” he asked Anoush.

 “I’m, not...gonna give up until I do. She’s so stubborn,” he wheezed in a higher register.

 Anoush’s bewildered face was a painful sight, and Amanda drew a deep breath to compose herself. “...I don’t want to lose this baby. I’ll do whatever it takes.” 

 “We’ll keep you for the night for observation. We’re gonna go ahead with some hormone treatments, and you’re due for your 24-week ultrasound,” the doctor said. “Do you want to get that out of the way now? I’d like to make sure the baby isn’t in distress after the pre-term contractions.” 

 “Okay...” she nodded sadly. When the doctor left, she was unable to look in those brown eyes full of worry.

 “If it’s any consolation, you’re the best looking ‘geriatric’ I’ve ever seen.” 

 She sighed, her lips pursing into a tired smile.  “Thanks. For everything. I don’t know how you do it sometimes.”

 “Ancient secret of the Norouzi-Do method. Anyhow...Daniel’s on his way. I really should go.”

 “What, is it time for the Boba Fête?” 

 He raised an eyebrow. “Amanda….”

"Sorry. Still triggered by that. And it’s not just about the stupid rivalry, not when it comes to you. That asshole would crush your spirit. Your spark. That guy I met five years ago who brought Iranian bread to his job interview, and we tore off pieces and shot the shit, and laughed. Tom Cole would kill that guy, and call him the wrong name and make him drink balls. And don’t say that you’d ‘deserve it.’”

 Anoush snickered under his misty-eyed captivation.  “Maybe just a little. Listen, I really shouldn’t stay for the ultrasound.” 

 “It’s okay. To practice for the future, right? I know you’ll find the right person, Noush. Get married, start a family.  No borrowed time, no shame. Your mom will be so happy. I don’t want to know what she’d say about…all this,” she sniffed, gesturing between them.

 “....that I was dead to her,” he said softly, his throat clenched tight as he looked at the floor.

 Amanda took his hands, knowing he wasn’t exaggerating. “I just want you to be happy."

 Her eyes were stinging hard as the doctor returned, wheeling in the ultrasound machine. “Alright-alriiight, time for the cold goop. You want to do the honors, Papa?” 

 Anoush blinked, and his words were steady and clear, despite the fact that his chest was shaking up and down.  “I’m not her husband. I’m sorry about the misunderstanding.”

 “Oh--crap, no, that was all me. I just, uh…” the doctor shrugged, his eyes darting between them.  “Y’know.” 

 Amanda reclined in the exam chair as the doctor put the probe in the gel, moving it over her little rounded stomach.  Everything looked like a gray blob on the monitor, until that big LaRusso head came into view, sitting atop a little crescent roll of a spine. The heart was strobing at what seemed like an impossible speed. 

 A teary grin washed over Amanda’s face as the little glowing shadow wriggled around, the heartbeat whomping. _Lightning crashes_ , she thought, her 90’s soul afire with those simple chords. This part never got old.  She knew it was a girl, even though it hadn’t been confirmed. She just knew. The baby was sucking her thumb with one hand and holding her foot with the other. 

 The look on Anoush’s face mirrored hers, at first, but began to shift and spiral into a honeyed torture.

 Behind his glassy eyes, there was an alternate universe unfolding. _“Holy shit, hon, she’s got the Norouzi nose! It’s a megahertz picture of my dad. Little Persian old man in there.”_

  _Amanda threw her head back and laughed, clasping his hand.  “It looks like I had nothing to do with it. Are you sure I was even around for this conception?”_

  _“Very sure.”_

 Amanda realized she was gazing at a blurring Anoush and not the screen anymore, listening to a heartbeat that very well could’ve been as loud as his own.

 The doctor left with the machine to print out the pictures. Anoush felt the suffocation of every one of his car nightmares combined.  There was only one way to free himself. 

 

”I love you,” he said, as soft and low as the background noise.

 

The partition curtain flew open as if Daniel could still hear his baby’s typhoon pulse. “Oh man, babe, thank God.”  Still in his t-shirt and shorts, he threw his long arms around her and kissed her hair. “I’d die if anything happened to you and Little Cannellini.” 

Amanda still wasn’t breathing. She stared marble-eyed at Anoush over Daniel’s shoulder, the horribly timed confession hanging in the sterile atmosphere. She tore her eyes away, finally swallowing air.  “I’m okay...and she’s um...much bigger than that now. The size of a pepper.” 

 Her jaw clenched when she realized she’d just outed herself about snooping on Anoush’s computer, but his face showed no recognition. He looked catatonic when the doctor came back with the printout, and Daniel was holding the picture with both hands, beaming. 

 “Hey, kiddo, lookin’ good,” he sniffed, as _“Hi, Mom!”_ broadcasted from the pocket of his pants. Anoush continued to shrink, as if the LaRusso logo was smothering him into the ground. “Sam's on her way, and true to form, we have a virtual Anthony joining us,” Daniel chuckled, giving her his phone, an extreme closeup of the boy in Face Time.

 “Hey, sweetie...how’s camp?”

 “ _Can I get out early for emotional distress?”_

 “Ey, c’maan, the baby’s fine, thanks to _this_ guy, the MVP of everything lately, huh?” Daniel braced Anoush with a back-slappy hug. “Peter Cetera caliber heroism over here.” 

 There was actual lipstick on Anoush’s collar, but if Daniel had even noticed in his elation, he would’ve just joked about Priya visiting for lunch. Daniel turned back to Amanda. “Can you believe you used to call him a suck-up?”

  _“Used to?”_ Anthony snickered. _“What, like, last week?”_

 “Daniel, thank you, I’ll let you take over here, I really have to go,” he said, giving him a quick side-hug, then freezing solid in front of Amanda until his arm stiffened into some kind of waving spatula. Feeling like she’d been tased, she was about to reach for him, but he was already disappearing through the partition curtain. 

 Once they’d said their goodbyes to Anthony, Daniel peered out the curtain. “Is Anoush OK?”

 Amanda nodded jerkily, gutted, trying to hold it together. She could smell citrusy cologne all over her, and all it would mean to Daniel was that Anoush had carried her. “This was...new to him, he was just a little freaked out.”

 “Pff, so he heard a little TMI about your cervix or something. He’ll live.”

 They lingered on the pictures together, temple to temple. The doctor reiterated the risks, and the fact that bed-rest was essential if this baby wasn’t going to end up on a March of Dimes poster. 

 “Well,” Daniel smiled, kissing her knuckles. “Looks like you’re gonna be spending a lot of time on an extra fluffy tatami bed in Canoga Park.”

 “Wait, what?”

 “I was gonna convert my old room to more practice space, but I kept it as a bedroom in case...alright, I’ll admit it-- if I was ever there so late I might as well spend the night. Luckily you knocked some sense into me before that happened, but think of it. I can teach class and you’ll be right there beside me with your feet up...it’ll be heaven.” 

 Amanda’s eyes were unblinking, the earlier events of the day crashing back into the ultimate case of mommy brain.  “....babe, I don’t know…”

 “Just think about it, okay? I’ll be right back, I’m gonna grab us some drinks from the caf.” He pressed a kiss into her cheek, complete with a Jersey _muah._

 

When she was the only one behind the curtain, she caged her face in her hands.  The sound of her phone somehow reached her in the vacuum she was in. Whenever she didn’t recognize a number, she remembered Daniel’s credo: _“What if it’s someone at a payphone in the rain?”_

 She picked up. “Hello?”

 “Sugar Tits! How goes the battle?” the voice crackled and spat, bleeding gums practically audible over the line.

 "...how did you get this number??”

 “It’s on your business card at the front desk, you workaholic,” Kreese chuckled. “Wow, and you’re not even a blonde! Anyhow, did you lay down the ‘no more karate’ card yet?”

 “I will, OK? Just give me a damn minute.”

 “I don’t want to tell him about Amoon, honey, believe me. No one is ever gonna love you like LaRusso, you know that. He took you out of nothing and he’ll send you back to nothing. Believe it or not, Mandy, I’m helping you.” 

 Amanda felt light headed. She tried to hold back, but it was impossible. “You son of a bitch….”

 “There’s that sass again, hm. Listen, I’m wondering if you’re familiar with a cute little condo in Mission Hills. Nice barbeque in the back, statue of a Persian cat…”

 She was slammed by the memory of Anoush bringing a lush spread to the backyard picnic table. _“Grigliata, LaRussos!”_

 Her armor was liquefying. “Kreese, I swear to God...you stay away from him.”

 “Don’t go jumping to conclusions…what if I’m just looking at all this through a rifle scope at the book depository?”

 She steeled herself against a sob escaping, but it did.

Kreese’s grin imprinted in her mind. “Hey,  I know this seems pretty extreme in the name of a silly little thing like extracurricular sports...but I do have my priorities in line here. I can’t lose any more Cobra Kai to Miyagi-Do. My soldiers are more important than some potential terrorist chipping away at pretty American porcelain like yourself.”

 Amanda clawed her temple. “Twenty-four hours, just give me one day and it’s done,” she trembled.

 “Write down this number, Doll. Keep in touch.”  

Amanda was nodding mindlessly as if he could see her, not sure of what was real anymore. Wherever she was, she was drowning.

 

 

 

 

 

 


End file.
